New Plays in Manhattan

This is New York. There is an old saying that "New York is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't live there if you gave me the place." Robert E. Sherwood, once an editor of Life, having written The Road to Rome and Waterloo Bridge, has turned his attention to this saw and has evidently decided to make a rebuttal. Producer Arthur Hopkins has selected a creditable cast to present Mr. Sherwood's side of the question. There is charming, blonde Lois Moran, recently of the audible cinema. Her legitimate stage technique is somewhat adolescent, but she is satisfying. There is Geoffrey Kerr, who not long ago wrote and acted in London Calling and is author of the Vanity Fair telegram-stories. He is an expert mummer. Also in the cast is Audray Dale (One, Two, Three!), talented, dark, svelte.

Playwright Sherwood's show begins when Miss Moran's father, a South Dakota Senator, comes to New York. Both he and his wife are definitely opposed to the city, advocate its secession from the union. No less are they opposed to their daughter's marrying Mr. Kerr, a Manhattan socialite whose past is rife with youthful follies. Then Miss Moran attempts to extricate her fiance from the claims of his mercenary mistress (Miss Dale). It is about this time (Act II) that the play begins to take life. At the paramour's apartment an impromptu fiesta takes place, during which a very battered young pugilist wanders around wanting to "take a sock" at someone. "Just one sock!" he pleads. And then there is an unfortunate suicide. Miss Moran is distressed at what her father's constituency may think. Mr. Kerr is distressed at what his family will think. Miss Dale sees her hush money slipping away from her.

Playwright Sherwood ultimately makes a very good case for New York. His play drags a bit in spots, but is commendable.

First Night. The idea behind this mystery play is far too ingenious for the job of play writing that Frederick Rath has given it. The audience are asked to consider themselves visitors at Sing Sing prison who have been invited to witness the tryout of a new drama. Among the spectators is "Governor Moore" (onetime Governor Alfred Emanuel Smith was there on the opening night) and "Warden Ross." Although the Governor repeatedly tries to have the show stopped, the warden and a young woman whose brother is sentenced to be electrocuted next day persuade him to see the thing out. As the little play within a play unfolds, like Hamlet's ruse to catch the conscience of the King, it becomes evident that the sister's plan is to present to the Governor evidence in her brother's behalf which he had refused to consider previously. Ultimately the Governor is convinced that the condemned brother is innocent, that another Sing Sing inmate (fortunately present, serving a stretch for forgery) is really the man who murdered the sister's betrayer, the crime which the innocent boy came within an ace of expiating. The script is abominable, the plot rather well designed,

Oh Promise Me is a swift, amusing farce about the breach-of-promise racket. It tells the story of a virginal file clerk (Eleanore Bedford) who consents to risk being seduced by a lecherous old businessman so that her foster parents may enjoy financial security and her boy friend (Lee Tracy) may get a name for himself as a shrewd barrister.

The play reaches its bawdy climax in Act II, the scene of which is laid in a court room. Here Mr. Tracy introduces as evidence against his sweetheart's erstwhile admirer two innocent letters in which "carrots" is construed as meaning "love" and "spinach" is interpreted as meaning something even more biological. It is a fairly amusing device and has been ever since Charles Dickens used it in his Pickwick Papers.

Lee Tracy is at his best. Somehow he makes any rowdy part that is given him breathlessly exciting. He can make an audience believe he is in a tight spot -- as when he was covering a jail break in The Front Page and trying to make a train for New York -- as well as any one on the U. S. stage. His predicament in Oh Promise Me is that of an ambitious young lawyer who has to win his case or go to the penitentiary for malpractice. As may be expected, he pulls through. When he was at Western Military Academy (Alton, Ill.) Lee Tracy made a list of 100 possible professions to be followed. It took him several months to cross out all save five : physician, electrical engineer, chemist, architect, actor. It was going to take too long to be a doctor or architect and because he did not fancy mathematics, playacting was the only calling left him. He figured that it was an easy way to make money if one was successful, and it entailed no responsibilities. After the War, during which he became a second lieutenant, he deliberately set out to make himself an actor. While performing a small part in a flop called Glory Hallelujah, he was seen by Producer Jed Harris, who hired him to play the hoofer in Broadway. He is 32, looks dapper but harried offstage.

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